


Do you hate me?

by ImmortalAcorn



Series: Memories of Draco Malfoy [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Apologies, M/M, POV First Person, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Unresolved Sexual Tension, confused fellings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 17:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16022159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalAcorn/pseuds/ImmortalAcorn
Summary: I always thought about him.I tried to erase him, to be comoletely blank.Only at night I rested. Dreamless and thoughtless. During the day I suffered.I hoped he did too. That he was  disgusted with himself.





	Do you hate me?

So it started. My self-hatred increased.

I hated him just as same as myself if not more.

I always thought about it. About him.

I tried to erase it, to be comoletely blank.

Only at night I rested. Dreamless and thoughtless. During the day I suffered.

I hoped he did too. That he was  disgusted with himself.

I started to hook up more. With Muggles. It was freeing. I didn't think then. I just was.

 

***

 

I didn't want the „accident“ to influence my life too much. I still wanted them to go mad when they saw me. Wizards and witches. I wouldn't hide, no matter how much they wanted me to go live under a rock. I especially wouldn't let Potter to stand in my way.

But his presence followed me like a plague. I could feel his eyes on me even though I never looked his way. Or I tried.

Sometimes my eyes wandered. And landed on him. I was always quick to avert them.

It was getting harder though. To not feel a constant disgust. To not remember. To avoid him.

I considered my options. Never appear at social events ever again. They would win. Never appear at public. They would win. Move to the muggle world. They would win. Kill myself. They would win.

I was never suicidal though. I just considered it all.

I was confused as well. There was disgust and hatred and anger inside of me. But something else too.

The worst of it all - I couldn't deny I liked it. It was that anger and hatred mixed together with want and lust. It was sick. I was sick. Was he sick? Definitely.

After few weeks he approached me once again. I was having fun with a woman, french accent, probably didn't know or didn't care who I was. She was really nice. And beautiful.

I saw him coming behind her.

'Hello,' he nodded to both of us.

'Mister Potter,' she smiled.

I didn't do anything.

'Care to join us?' She asked him.

'Oh thank you, but I'm just about to leave.' Pause. 'Malfoy, can we talk?'

No. 'Sure. Excuse me Nadine.'

I followed him reluctantly. And very slowly.

He led me to a shadowed corner of the room.

There was silence. I wasn't the one to break it.

'I'd be happy if you just let me speak first and then  you can insult me,' he rushed out. I nodded.

'Okay. I'm sorry, honestly. For the fight and the other stuff. You don't have to accept it, I get it if you don't anyway. It was wrong. I shouldn't have followed or insulted you. Yes. You were right I behaved like back at Hogwarts. Like a right stalker. I just ... you unsettled me when I saw you at that event. I was sure you were plotting something. And even if you were or are, it isn't my business. I shouldn't have become obsessed again. It was unfair to you and I really am sorry for all that I said and did. It won't happen again.'

He probably expected me to say something. React.

'Good,' I said in the end.

He breathed deeply and fisted his hand.

I wanted to leave but for whatever reason I could not move.

'Do you hate me?' He asked.

It was what I felt. Among other things. I felt reluctant to say it though. I didn't know why. I was confused.

'Yes,' I finally said and left him there.

I went home. Alone.

 

***

 

I repeated one sentence in my head. So it would remain true.

'I hate you Potter. I hate you. I really, really hate you.'


End file.
